


Happy birthday to ya!

by Squishmitten



Category: Holby City
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff, Happy Birthday!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 11:26:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17703449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squishmitten/pseuds/Squishmitten
Summary: Serena is already in a bad mood, having had to work on her birthday.Will Bernie’s domestic efforts improve the situation?





	Happy birthday to ya!

**Author's Note:**

> As it’s my forty-mumble birthday today, I thought I’d treat you all to a little bit of domestic fluff.  
> I hope you enjoy it.

As she drove home from work, Serena was in a bit of a bad mood. It had nothing to do with the day she'd had on the ward, which had actually been a good one. Ric, feeling guilty, had taken on all the tedious jobs, Duval hadn't been  _ too _ insufferable, and the ward even had a bed or two to spare for most of the day. 

There had been flowers, a helium filled balloon, a couple of bottles of Shiraz, and one  _ very _ expensive bottle of Shiraz from Henrik. Best of all had been Ric's offering of an IOU for one full, long weekend off, for both her and Bernie, with the date to be decided at Serena's leisure. All in all, not a bad little haul for a fifty-mumble birthday. 

All of that had failed to fully lift Serena out of her grump, however. What made it worse was the knowledge that she partially had herself to blame. Henrik had let Ric Griffin loose on the ward rotas and Ric had scheduled Serena in on her birthday. How many years had the man known her, yet he forgot the date of her bloody birthday and scheduled her to work. To add insult to injury, Bernie had been given the day off. Needless to say, Bernie had tried and tried to persuade Serena to swap shifts, but Serena wouldn't budge. She was fully prepared to embrace the martyrdom and work. All the better to guilt trip Ric for an entire shift. 

Serena pulled up to the house, and parked on the drive behind her wife's MX5. Bernie still refused to part with her impractical, sporty little car in spite of them both getting that bit creakier, and the fact that folding themselves in and out was becoming more and more of a challenge. It also meant that they always had to take Serena's car whenever they had Guinevere, because of course, the Mazda was a two-seater. Practicalities aside, it was great fun to zip along, with her speed demon of a wife at the wheel. And if, on occasion, Bernie had to help haul her out of the passenger seat, then so be it. 

She sat for a minute or two, consciously making the effort to put aside her bad mood. Bernie had tried her best to swap with Serena, none of this was her fault, and she didn't deserve to spend the evening with a miserable cow. She imagined the lovely, luxury hotel and spa break she could book for the long weekend Ric would be covering, and that brought a smile to her face. 

Serena wrestled her gifts out of the back seat, slung her bag over her shoulder and felt faintly ridiculous with a big, silvery balloon bobbing behind her as she approached the front door. She had hoped Bernie would have heard the car pull up, and opened the door, but there was no sign of her, so Serena juggled her load and managed to get the door open without dropping anything. 

Odd that there were no lights on. Surely Bernie wouldn't have gone out, knowing Serena would be getting home around this time? She dumped her bags on the floor, and hooked the balloon's string on the coat rack. Serena switched on the hall light and stuck her head around the living room door. 

“Oh bless,” she sighed. 

Bernie was slumped in her usual spot on the sofa, wearing a stripy apron, fast asleep. Bernie wasn't a natural in the kitchen. She had a small repertoire of dishes she could cook competently, some things she had made for her kids when they were small, plus a couple of more exotic recipes she picked up during her travels around the globe. Serena sniffed the air. Thankfully, she couldn't smell burning, so whatever Bernie had been up to, it clearly hadn't suffered for her nap. 

Serena made her way down the hall to the kitchen and turned on the lights. 

“What the fu..?”

The kitchen was a total disaster area. The sink was chock full of dishes, something was dripping from the underside of two of the wall units, and there was a covering of flour on the kitchen table, and on every single work surface. Serena turned on her heel and marched back down the hall.

“Berenice Wolfe! What the  _ hell _ have you done to my kitchen?!” 

Bernie shot upright, instantly on full alert. 

“Serena, you're home. Oh god, I fell asleep. I only meant to have a five minute sit down, and I fell asleep. I'm so sorry. I meant to have everything done before you got home,” Bernie babbled, wildly. 

She looked so adorably dismayed and sleep rumpled, that Serena's heart instantly melted and her anger vanished. 

“Bernie…” 

“You sit down and relax, and I'll go and clean up then make a start on dinner. I'm sorry, Serena. It was meant to be a lovely relaxing evening, and I've ruined it.”

Serena crossed the room and wrapped her arms around her wife. 

“Bernie darling, calm down. You haven't ruined anything. We'll clean up the kitchen together. It'll take half the time with both of us pitching in. Then we can cook together. It will still be a lovely evening. It always is when we get to spend it alone, just the two of us,” soothed Serena. 

“Are… Are you sure? You already had to work on your birthday, you shouldn't have to cook and clean as well.”

“Yes darling, I'm quite sure.”

They both knew that even if Serena had left Bernie to clean the kitchen alone, Serena would only go back over it herself. Bernie's ideas of what constituted a thoroughly cleaned kitchen were not the same as Serena's. 

“I did get the dining room set up ready, my love,” Bernie told her wife.

She flipped the light switch so Serena could look in. The table was neatly set, with the best place settings. There were candles ready to be lit and a beautiful arrangement of red roses in a crystal vase. 

“Oh Bernie, it looks wonderful. Thank you!”

Serena turned and beamed at her wife and leaned in for a kiss. A couple of minutes later, they pulled breathlessly apart. This wasn't getting the kitchen sorted out. 

Following Bernie into the kitchen, Serena braced herself for her second look at the carnage. Yes, it was just as bad on the second viewing. A sudden thought occurred to her. 

“Bernie darling, if you haven't started on dinner yet, what in the  _ world _ were you doing to cause all this?” Serena waved her hand at the flour bedecked surfaces. 

“Ah. Er, I made you this, I've got candles for it and everything. I've never made one before, because Marcus always insisted on buying them for the children. It hasn't come out  _ quite  _ like the picture though,” she replied, and pointed at a cake that Serena hadn't previously noticed, distracted as she was by the mess. 

The combination of Bernie's sheepish yet immensely proud face, and the adorably wonky, lumpy and clumsily iced cake were too much for Serena. She had never loved her wife more. 

“Come here, you beautiful, amazing woman,” she breathed, and proceeded to show Bernie  _ just _ how much she loved the cake. 

  
  
  



End file.
